Rip Tides
by imadancinwithmyself
Summary: During the 70th Hunger Games, Finnick Odair is mentoring the new District 4 tributes, a boy and more importantly, a girl named Annie Cresta. Told from Finnick's perspective all the way through the beginning to the end of the 70th Hunger Games.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I own nothing, all characters and general plot belong to Suzanne Collins

Summary: This story takes place during the 70th Hunger Games and follows Finnick Odair as he mentors his new tribute, Annie Cresta.

The first time I saw Annie Cresta was during the Reaping Ceremony for the 70th Hunger Games. This might seem strange being that I grew up in District 4, but she was 3 years younger than me. When I won the 65th games, I was only 14. While maybe some of the other victors from the lower districts stayed in their home districts and lived in their corresponding victors' village, that wasn't the case for me. It was made clear pretty quickly that I wouldn't spend much time at home. I had responsibilities to see to in the Capitol, people to meet, beds to stay in, and I rarely was ever home in District 4. Whenever I did get a chance to rest, I was dragged back out by my entourage and "care takers" within a matter of days. But more on that later.

The point is, I was 3 years old than her when I was in school, which was pretty much a decade of difference when you're that age. I was 19 the year of the 65th Hunger Games. I had actually been able to stay the night in my own house, which was huge and easily housed my little sister, Sasha, and my mother. I was up all night because the sheets had too much starch, making them feel rough against my skin, and the pillows reeked of lavender. Not that you could tell by the next morning. I still had a devoted prep-team, though I had graduated from the games mandated prep-team to my own gaggles of hairstylists and clothing designers. I woke up with bags under my eyes and a severe case of bed head, but stepped out into the District 4 City Center looking like I just stepped out of photo shoot on the beach. They even put a light layer of oil over my skin to give it that sun kissed shine. I was standing off to the side next to Mags while The District 4 chaperone, a guy by the name of Lionel who stood at about 5'7", and the top 7 inches were occupied by his ridiculous mass of bright gold hair bouffant I had ever seen in my life. He was always rubbing his hands together and had a smile as big as a horse. Lionel looked more like a cartoon caricature than an actual person. I was lucky that I had narrowly escaped being turned into something like him when I became victor. Mags had been my mentor (seeing as she and I are currently the only surviving mentors from District 4) and fought tooth and nail to keep my "alterations" to a minimum. Their argument was the more natural I looked, the more exotic I would be to the people of The Capitol. Odd how it works backwards like that. In the end, the biggest alterations I received was a dental make over to get rid of the gap next to my left incisor and make the rest of my teeth even and pearly white. Gotta keep the smile perfect. Second in importance only to my physique.

I hadn't been paying that close attention, to be honest. I was busy looking around, tossing a covert wink at the Mayor's wife, inclining my head to the cheers from the crowd and grinning at the cameras whenever she focused in on my face. Most of these public appearances were a choreographed display of waving, standing just so, tilting my head a certain way and rearranging my features in a way that exuded confidence and nonchalance. Everything I did was carefully planned out and watched. Finnick Odair was a product and needed to be advertised _just so._ Lionel gave his little speech, dug a hand into the large glass bowl, made a show of wiggling his fingers in the fluttering slips of paper before pulling out the girl tribute from District 4 for the 70th Hunger Games.

"Annie C_rrr_esta!" Lionel purred. He always made a rolling noise with his r's.

In a traditionally Career district such as District 4, there was the usual murmur of disappointed girls mixed in with cheers of the people gathered in the square. I clapped slowly, a lazy grin on my face as I waited for the first tribute to come to the stage. I had to squint against the sun to see the crowd of girls part and make way for her. I didn't get a good look at Annie until she came to a stop by Lionel, and even then it was just her back. Mags shuffled along the platform and stood next to her. From the back, she didn't look too impressive. She wasn't very tall. While most of the children and teenagers standing in the square were dressed in their finest clothes – sundresses for girls and buttoned shirts with khaki cargo shorts for the boys – Annie was in a pair of faded green shorts and a dark blue tank top that gathered around her rib cage before billowing out. The breeze drafting from the beach caught the hem of it and tugged up, revealing the tanned curve of her hip. I shifted my eyes back to the crowd.

I wasn't impressed.

In the front row of disappointed girls alone I could picked out at least 5 who were taller than Annie, had stronger shoulders and much more defined legs than the thin little things she had. Her black hair pooled in loose curls down the middle of her back. At least her shoulders were steady and she had her chin tilted proudly. Probably a proud tribute, yes, but she didn't exactly look born and bred for the games. I didn't have very high expectations for this one. Hopefully the boy tribute, the one _I _would be mentoring, would be a better candidate. I stepped forward, taking my place on the other side of the platform, Lionel and his bowls of white paper between me and Mags with her new tribute. Lionel started making a shower of digging into the names of District 4 boys.

"_Rrr_heese Halyard!"

Over Lionel's magnified voice, something distracted me from looking for the boy that I would be in charge of keeping alive. Over the cheers and hollering, I caught a sharp intake of breath. I glanced to my right and saw Annie's face for the first time. She was staring at Lionel. At first, the only thing I saw was her eyes. They were so large and such a pale shade of green that it took me a moment to realize her mouth was opened in a small o and her dark eyebrows were pulled together. It only lasted for a moment before she seemed to realize where she was because Annie's head snapped back to face the crowds again. Had that been a look of surprise? I clapped idly, curious about this girl's reaction. Her chin was tilted up again, but her brow was furrowed. I followed her stare to the boy that was now coming up the steps. No, not surprise. Not even shock. The looked etched into Annie Cresta's face, try as she might to conceal it, was dread.

I shifted my attention to Rheese Halyard. He was a few inches shorter than me, but what he lacked in advantageous height, he made up in obscene amounts of muscle. His hair was cropped short, just a shadow of dark hair. The boy's skin looked like he had a lingering sunburn, with dark freckles blotched across his nose and cheeks. His eyes were brown, but not wide in terror like you say in the lower districts. They were sharp and focused. Now _this_ was a proper District 4 tribute. I stepped forward, flashing a smug grin to the cameras and clapping the boy on the back of the shoulder. It felt like slapping the side of a horse. This was someone I could work with. He wasn't the best looking kid – especially not with that pug nose of his – but the District 4 team would be able to clean him up well enough. They didn't need to go with my forte, anyways. While I relied equally on my skill and attractive appeal in the arena, I was confident I could turn this kid into a killing machine, if he wasn't already, and if he had a fair amount of brains. He didn't say anything or have much of a reaction to being on stage at all. His expression was just slightly pinched; he could've been focusing, trying to look tough or just squinting in the sunlight.

But I was still bothered by the girl's reaction. While Lionel gave his closing speech, I stole another sidelong glance at her. She hadn't moved since Rheese Halyard's name was called, to the point that it was obvious she was trying to avoid looking him. Or us. Or all of us, really. Her large eyes were craned toward the sky. She wasn't blinking. And there was the slightest tremor to her chin. I should've been focused on my own tribute. Scoping him out, seizing him up, already formulating a game plan even though were we just starting to descend the platform and enter the justice building so the two tributes could say their goodbyes to their loved ones. The girl had seemed confident enough, or at the very least calm, when her name had first been called. So why had she reacted like that when her counterpart had been named? Did she know him? Was she scared to be put up against someone from her own district that was so obviously stronger than she was? Or did she know him? Maybe the two were friends?

Annie entered the building first, followed closely by Mags, Rheese and then myself. I turned around in the doorway of the justice building, offering the crowd a wave and they responded with loud enthusiasm. I stole one last conspiratorial grin to the Mayor's wife as he turned to speak to Lionel. She pressed her fingers to her brightly painted lips and a caught a glimpse of gold around her wrist – a token of my affection I had left with her last night – before the double doors shut with a hollow thud before me.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I own nothing, all characters and general plot belong to Suzanne Collins

Summary: This story takes place during the 70th Hunger Games and follows Finnick Odair as he mentors his new tribute, Annie Cresta.

Note: I jumped from past tense to present tense mid-way through this chapter. Eventually I'll go back and fix the whole thing.

I never much enjoyed hanging around waiting for the new tributes to say their goodbyes. The whole ordeal is a bit too familiar, not to mention dull and depressing. While Mags waited for the two, I went ahead and boarded our train. I spent half of the afternoon lying in bed and staring out the window, trying to memorize the path of the District 4 shoreline before I was once again removed from my home. Tapping my fingers against the glass, I remained there, staring out the window until the last gleam of sun setting over the ocean became obscured by trees. Only then did I drag myself away and get in the shower to get ready for tonight. We would have our first official dinner together (tributes, mentors and chaperone), but, more importantly, after that I had some of my own business to take care of. It was more President Snow's business than my own, but I was still the product to be passed around. Apparently, one of the new Game Makers for this year's Hunger Games had requested my company tonight. They had traveled all the way from the Capitol to catch this train and procure their own car just to enjoy my company. How kind of them. I had a regular set of various governmental figure heads who paid good money to spend a few hours with me. Of course, the cash didn't go to me, but to President Snow. Not that I really needed it, anyways. I had also found over the past 6 years that people tend to feel guilty when the blatant exchange of money was involved. That why my temporary companions preferred to shower me with gifts. Whatever made them sleep better at night, I suppose.

After I had cleaned up, I went to the train car we were supposed to be having dinner. So far, it was only Mags. Mags is the only person in the world who knows every piece of me and, miraculously, isn't disgusted, ashamed or put off. I smile at her. It's only time like these, alone with my old mentor away from prying eyes, that I use a genuine smile. Not a coy smile, a lopsided grin or a cocky smirk; just... a smile. What my lips would do if I didn't so closely monitor every movement and fiber of my body. She returned it with a smile of her own that was riddled with missing teeth and wrinkled dimples. I walked across the room and sat down across from her.

"How did they do?" I asked, reaching across the table and plucking a few grapes from the tray of fruit.

Mags was already gumming an orange slice. "As you would expect," she replied. Her voice had a slight tremor of old age to it, the same way her thin hands did, but other than that, she was a strong old woman. She sighed and looked at me across the table. "That boy of yours seems more human than he likes to put on," Mags said.

I popped a grape into my mouth and avoided her eyes. "Cried?" I asked.

"No, but he was shaking like a leaf."

I made a dismissive humming noise and rolled a grape between my thumb and middle finger. Saying goodbye to my family after I was reaped for the Hunger Games had been one of the worst days of my life. I had only been 14, confident and strong enough, sure, but it had also turned out to be the last time I ever saw my father. I was prepared, yes, more so than most kids who find themselves in the arena, but even growing up in a Career district doesn't ready you for something like this. I bit the grape I was holding in half. "What about the girl?" I asked, finally glancing up at Mags.

Mags pursed her lips together and shook her head back and forth. "She only had one visitor," she told me, a tone of pity in her voice. "An older man, her father, I'd bet."

"Good," I said shortly, which earned me a frown from Mags. "Less people to cry about her when she doesn't come back." I wasn't trying to be mean or cruel. Just honest. She didn't approve of that, of course, and opened her mouth to say something when the sound of footsteps approaching caused us both to turn and look at the door. I expected it to open, but instead, there were hushed whispers coming from the other side, muffled by the wooden door. A raised an eyebrow at Mags before standing up from my seat and crossing the room. I set a hand on the door and pulled it open.

On the other side of the door stood Rheese Halyard and Annie Cresta. Both of them seemed a bit surprised by my sudden appearance, but, under that, I could see that Rheese's jaw was clenched tight and Annie's cheeks were flushed. She also looked away from me, apparently much more interested in her shoes, almost as quickly as I had opened the door. Yes, the two obviously knew each other. "Come in," I said, flashing them both a smile (not that Annie could see it) and stepping aside. I held out an arm for them to enter. Rheese squared his shoulders, gave a noise that sounded more like a sea lion than anything else, and walked in.

Annie, on the other hand, seemed to hesitate for a moment, intently watching Rheese. "No need to look so frightened," I told her in a conspiratorial whisper, watching her face carefully. I made a living off of manipulating my own body language and being able to read other people. I leaned my hip against the edge of the door, hooking my hand over the top, and grinned at her. "We're all friends here," I purred.

This got her to look at me, What I wasn't expecting was the look she gave me. As though I had just said something quite rude. I was half expecting her to reprimand me, but all she did was stick her chin in the air like she had at The Reaping ceremony, and walk inside. Well. That was different than what I was used to.

She took her seat next to Mags, who greeted her with a smile an orange slice. Rheese sat on the other side and I returned to my seat next to him. Then the awkward silence ensued. Rheese glared at his empty plate, Mags started peeling a new orange, Annie became engrossed with the piece she was nibbling on, and I sat there and watched. I looked carefully back and forth between the two. Rheese seemed adamant on not making eye contact with anyone - or just found the Capitol's choice of china ware particularly enthralling - while Annie kept stealing glancing across the table at him, her big sea-green eyes peeking out from under her fringe of dark eyelashes. I started tapping my fingers on the table top. Their behavior was, at the best, distracting. I was running through worst case scenarios in my head. Having two tributes who knew each other never worked out well. I had only been a mentor for four years before this, and that was a solid truth I had already established.

I was trying to decide what to say when the door flew open. Lionel Docket flounced his way into the room. One of my eyebrows flickered upward. I never liked the District 4 escort very much. He was always wringing his hands which gave him the almost constant appearance of someone who was about to dig into a particularly fine lobster dinner. All that was missing was a fork and some melted butter. Along with that and the laughable way he dressed, Lionel's appearance was made even more ridiculous by the fact that he wore very tall shoes, probably to make the fact that he was so short. But he didn't handle them well and always teetered whenever he came to a stop.

Like he did now, at the head of the table. "Oh how looovely!" he cooed, rubbing his hands together again, those horse teeth of his shining in all their glory as he smiled in an almost deranged manner down at the table. "SO sorry about my delay! Got held up speaking with the Mayor and his lovely wife-" his eyes flickered to me momentarily "- just schmoozing and such, you know how that goes!" He took his seat and clapped his hands, announcing to the Capital appropriated Avoxes that they could now come in. They came out with trays of tilapia, skewers of shrimp, a particularly spicy variety of seafood gumbo only produced properly in District 4, and whole lobsters with at least seven different sauces.

I helped myself to some more fruit and a piece of salmon while Lionel began his mindless chittering around the games. Rheese piled his plate up with fish and vegetables. That was good. It was obvious that he had been well-fed back in District 4 – most people were, but there was always the rare occasion when a poor fisherman's son or daughter ended up getting reaped – but at the same time, someone who was used to eating all the time could screw themselves over once they got into the arena and didn't have the means to feed themselves. I interrupted one of Lionel's speeches about his particular affinity towards oysters. "So, tell us about yourselves," I said, cutting off Lionel's words cleaning, glancing momentarily to Annie before focusing in on Rheese, who put down his fork and knife but is still chewing. "Obviously, you already know who we are." There was no point in wasting time on polite exchanges like introducing ourselves. "No life stories, if you'd please," I add casually. "Try to stick to what will be useful in keeping you alive." I can tell by the way Mags has shifted in her seat that she is giving me a disapproving look. Mags and I take rather different approaches to mentoring. Het more hands on tactic of getting to know her tributes and using that way to work up their strengths may have worked on me, but after the first two years of watching my tribute get killed at some stage of the games, I've taken on a more practical method. I ignore the look from Mags and watch Rheese expectantly.

I've interrupted his chewing and the chunk of food he forces himself to swallow down immediately is so large I'm surprised he doesn't choke. "My father is fish merchant," he tells me. He has the gruff voice of someone who sounds like they just woke up. "I've been in the training courses since I was eight." At this declaration, he looks a bit smug. He doesn't need to explain it to me; everyone from District 4 knows what the training courses are. The district passes it off as a sort of advance athletics program. Which trains pupils not only how to run fast and lift weights, but also how to fight and kill another human being. It's a weak cover, but a cover nonetheless. I was in them myself, but my specific skill of working with nets and tridents I learned from my father who hunter creatures like sea lions and sting rays and sold their skins.

Rheese had good enough credentials, apparently, but you couldn't expect to muscle your way through the games. You also needed to have some sort of intelligence. "Do you know how to hunt? Fish?" I asked, drumming my fingers on the table top.

He hesitates. "I… I can build a fire." Rheese is losing the edge he thought he had coming into this, it's written in the worried yet insulted look that's creeping over his red face. "And make a shelter from drift wood."

From District 4 and he didn't even know how to fish. This was the problem with career training. They never thought all the way through. They will teach you how to fight and how to cook a meal, but they don't go over how to _find _food in the hundreds of different climates you could be potentially tossed into. I smile at Rheese. "Well, the only good that fire will do you is keep you warm if you can't get food to cook it with," I simply state. "You're going to need to spend a _lot _of training time picking up some useful skills if you don't want to starve to death." I give him a once over. "That happens faster to the big ones, by the way," I add. Rheese's face is an even darker shade of red now. It no longer showcases his sunburn but instead puts his embarrassment, and probably the urge to shove his fork in my eye, clearly on display.

But I'm not here to baby him.

I shift my eyes over to Annie. For the briefest of moments, I get to see those eyes of hers watching me before they flit away back to Rheese. I stop drumming my fingers and a crease forms between my brow. There's something about the way her eyes look whenever she manages to bring herself to look at me that makes me… I don't know what, exactly, but it's not what I'm used to. Typically, I have to deal with women, and men for that matter, freely roving me over with their eyes. Greedily taking in my appearance and looking at me in ways that would make my skin crawl if I wasn't so used to be laid out on display by now. But I think the way this Annie girl keeps staring at me is even more unsettling.

She's quiet for a District 4 tribute. And small. Too small. And she keeps glancing at Rheese. And why had they been whispering outside of the door earlier.

All of these questions are running through my head when Mags speaks. "What about you, Annie?" Mags asks in her soothing tone. If I had a grandmother who had read bedtime stories to me as a child and tucked me into bed, I assume this would be the tone she would have used. Gentle and lulling, but that's just how Mags was. She didn't win her games with brutality and strength, she won it with wits and resources. "Were you also in the career courses?"

Annie drags her eyes away from Rheese to Mags. She tucks a piece of hair back and shakes her head slightly. Her ears are pink. She's nervous. "No." She make look shaken, but I'll give it to Annie Cresta, her voice is as steady and airy as the ebb and flow of waves washing over sand. It's quiet, but distinct. "I just attended normal school because I had to help my father—" she looks to Rheese again "—He's a fisherman, of muscles and mollusks," she explains. She raises one of her small shoulder in a shrug. "I dive for abalone shells. We don't have scuba gear or anything like that, we… we can't afford it."

"You're father was the one who came to see you off?" Mags asks gently. She must be thinking what I'm thinking. That man was too old and too frail to do any diving himself. Annie must be the one doing any of the actual fishing. Unless he could afford to hire someone else, but by the looks of her salt stained shorts, he didn't.

She presses her lips together. She's embarrassed. "But I dive really deep and hold my breath longer than anyone else at school," she adds firmly.

I would almost feel bad for her, being an only child and having to do the work her father was too old to do any longer. But I'm a victor and a mentor and these are the Hunger Games.

"Well then," I say, sitting back in my chair and grinning across the table at the dark haired girl. "Let's hope the arena is in the middle of the ocean this year. Maybe on a nice island, perhaps."

Mags shakes her head.

Rheese looks like he can't tell if I'm joking or not.

And Annie just watches me with those big green eyes and doesn't say a word, holding mine for a moment longer before looking back to Rheese. Again.

"So how do you two know each other, then?" I ask, suddenly feeling annoyed, for what reason I'm not sure.

Rheese swallows hard and scowls at his plate. Annie, still peeking out at him from under her heavy eyelashes, answers my question first. "My dad works for Rheese's father…" she starts slowly.

"He get supplies the muscles, clams, oysters and mollusks for our store," Rheese adds. There a hard look on his face and he's still staring at his plate. "We grew up together. Sort of."

Annie lifts her head and frowns at him. "We're friends." It's a statement, but the way her dark, delicate eyebrows are drawn together and pulled up just slightly, she looks like she's trying to get confirmation from him, assurance. But he gives her nothing.

I can tell by the way she looks at me that we're thinking the same thing.

This is not good. And there might be more to it than what they're telling us, which further frustrates me. The odds of either of our tributes surviving these games aren't looking good. You can't be friends with someone who will inevitably die, or you'll maybe even have to end up killing. You can't have friends in the arena.

"Well." I stand up from my seat. It already getting late and I have an appointment to keep. And these recent revelations have made me frustrated. I lean my palms onto the table. "The odds are," I say slowly, deliberately, and looking back and forth between the two of them, "Without question, only one of you could survive the arena." Rheese is watching me now, face still red and hands clenched into fists on either side of his plate. "Odds are, neither of you will." Annie's eyes are on me again, with that unsettling look in them that I can't place. "And it's a very real possibility that one of you will have to murder the other." I straighten. My tone is even, I'm not yelling, but there is also harshness to it. I don't know why these two have gotten me so on edge. I've spent the last five years carefully calculating everything I do, everything I say and how I look to project a certain persona and demeanor. But somehow these two have made me falter. "So I suggest you two figuring out exactly how you want to play these games." If they don't head in willing to do _anything _to survive, they would both get each other killed. I cross the room and open the door. I say over my shoulder, "If you have a death wish, don't waste our time trying to keep you alive," before closing the door shut with a snap behind me.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I own nothing, all characters and general plot belong to Suzanne Collins

Summary: This story takes place during the 70th Hunger Games and follows Finnick Odair as he mentors his new tribute, Annie Cresta.

Note: It's starting out slowish, but it'll pick up soon! Plenty in store for the next chapters!

A few hours later, I'm walking back from the Game Maker's private train compartment. Her name was Tana. Game Maker Tana. A relatively new Game Maker – she wasn't there when I was in the games, but I recognized her from the past couple of years I had mentored. She was nice enough, but they all were. A way to balance out their morals and consciences, or what was left of them, anyways. Tana was a chatterer. Afterwards, we laid there and talked about how she _adored _District 4 and made frequent visits there throughout the year, which was an obvious hint that I would be seeing more of her in the future. She also talked about the Capitol, he pet orange cat and how she was _so _looking forward to the games this year. According to Tana, they were sure to "make a splash" with the audience.

I didn't pay much attention, while she droned on, all I could think about were the deep wrinkle lines that framed her mouth and wonder how long it must have taken for her to get the silver swirls tattooed all over her body to be drawn. I always had to distance myself a bit from these people. The Capitol and President Snow may have had completely control of my body, but the least I could do was keep my mind. I was becoming an expert at distancing myself from what I was actually doing. You had to. But I was so good at it, sometime it was hard to remember where this persona I was living with stopped and where the actual Finnick Odair began. For my own sanity, I made it a rule to never stay the night in someone else's bed. Technically, I hadn't slept over night with anyone… well, ever. When I was reaped into the games, I was only 14, and by the time I got out, I was too closely watched over to have any real friendships, let alone relationships, with anyone else. Then when I hit 16, this new life was laid out for me.

When I left, it was the middle of the night. I had my shoes in my hand and was walking down the main corridor of the train. All of the lights were dimmed down and I knew I needed to get back to my room and was off the overpowering perfume Tana had been apparently doused in. In the morning we would be in the Capitol and start the prep stage of the games. While I was tired and knew I needed sleep, I was also thirsty. So, I took a detour to one of the sitting rooms. Before going inside, one of the train attendants asked if they could get me something, but I declined and went into the train car on my own. I grabbed a cold glass bottle of water from one of the small ice boxes inside, unscrewed the cap and took a drink from it.

Without looking, I tossed my shoes to the side and they hit with a _thunk _against the back of a couch, followed by the sound of someone gasping. I nearly jumped out of my skin. After being in the arena, your nerves remain permanently wound up and while usually I was always aware of my surroundings, somehow the person sitting on the other side of the couch had gotten past me.

I whirled around, almost dropping the bottle in my hand, to see Annie Cresta looking over the back of the couch at me, looking just as surprised as I felt. A wave of relief washed over me and the muscles in my body that had tensed up relaxed.

I breathed out a long breath. "Hi," I said.

"Hi." She was just sitting there. The TV wasn't on or anything, but in her hand I could see a cup of something that had steam billowing off of it.

I walked around to the front of the couch to see her better. She was still wearing the same clothes from the reaping ceremony and immediately scooted to the other side of the couch and drew her knees up. I had found plenty of the tributes I mentored roaming the halls of the train at night on the way to the Capitol, but most of them stuck to their own compartments and showed up the next morning with puffy, bloodshot eyes that I pretended not to notice.

Annie, however, didn't look like she had been crying. Her dark curls were a bit disheveled, sure, but she looked far from a distraught girl who had just been reaped for the Hunger Games.

"You couldn't sleep?" I asked. I tried to make it a point not to get too attached to the District 4 tributes. I had yet to ever have one come back alive and the more I got to know them, the more sleep I lost when I couldn't get them back to District 4 alive. And the more they gave me that look that said I was their only hope, that they were counting on me, as their mentor, to somehow save them from this impossible situation.

But I wasn't getting that look from Annie.

She was gripping her cup so tightly that her knuckles were white. "Not really," she said, looking down at her drink instead of at me.

I grinned. "Was your bed not comfortable?"

She let out a forced laugh. I was very familiar with the sound because I had to use it at least ten times a day, though, I must say, mine were much more convincing. "No, it was fine, really soft," she corrected herself. "But… I bit _too _soft. I'm used to a straw mattress."

Usually, most of the people in District 4 were well off, but Annie didn't speak as though she was embarrassed. "You'll get used to it," I told her.

She let out another breathy laugh. "Yeah, for the next two weeks we're here…" Annie pressed her lips together.

I didn't know if she meant a general "we", or "we" as in she and Rheese. She was obviously thinking about the arena. I felt a little guilty about how I had been, well, a bit less than a friendly mentor earlier that night. Telling her that finding a place to sleep in the arena would be the least of her concerns didn't seem like the right choice at the moment.

"Well, we could always also a doting attendant to get some straw and a nice burlap sack to make you a bed on the floor, if you'd like. I highly suggest taking advantage of their eagerness to please," I told her with a grin. I was trying to make her laugh, or even just smile, but it wasn't working.

I moved to sit on the arm of the couch. She pulled her legs in closer to herself. She was staring at me – well, not _at _me, maybe at the water I was still holding in my hand. When she finally managed to draw her eyes up to me, she had that same look on her face that she had at the reaping ceremony and earlier at dinner.

"What about you?" she asked. Her eyes drifted back down again and I realized she wasn't looking at my hands, but the hem of my shirt that was un-tucked from my pants and wrinkled. "Long night?"

I didn't know what to say, for a moment. Was she implying something? Or was she just asking an innocent question?

"Something like that." I took a drink from the glass bottle. "Meeting with a Game Maker ran late," I told her. Which wasn't exactly a lie.

She nodded her head and ran a hand through her hair. Some of her curls spilled over her shoulder. Neither of us said anything for a moment, and I considered leaving and heading back to my own room. Annie didn't seem like she wanted to talk, maybe she just wanted to be left alone.

"You don't remember me, do you?" Annie asked suddenly.

I paused and looked at her. Remember her? "Uh…" She was three years younger than me, we probably went to the same school, sure, but we wouldn't have been in the same classes or anything. "I… No, I don't." I rubbed the back of my neck. "Should I?"

"I know your sister, Marena," she said. Luckily, she didn't seem bothered that I didn't remember her.

The mention of my sister gave me a pang in the pit of my stomach. "Do you?" Annie and my sister Marena were the same age. I hadn't really thought about the possibility of them knowing each other, or even being friends.

Annie nodded again. "Yeah, we didn't really start hanging out until you—" She trailed off suddenly and gave me a furtive glance out of the corner of her eye. I wasn't used to people a_voiding _making eye contact with me. It was a bit strange. Usually I had to deal with people blatantly looking me up and down anywhere I went. "The year you left, we had classes together and sort of… became friends."

"Have we met before, then?" I asked her.

"Not really. We sort of met once, right after you came back, I had been at your house earlier with your family," she said. "There were a lot of people around though," she explained with a small shrug.

"You were there that day?" I can remember the day she was talking about. After I won the games and after a couple of weeks of being pieced back together and doing my closing interviews, I was finally able to go home. That first day, there were photographers, reporters and people from District 4 lining the street and gathered in the front of my family's house on the beach. There had been so many people and dozens of flashing lights in my eyes. I had been so desperate to see my family again, so relieved to be home and alive, that I hadn't paid much attention to anyone else. I couldn't even remember anyone else with Marena when I first saw her. I just ran up to her, picked her up and hugged her as tightly as I possibly could.

"Yeah." She didn't seem insulted that I didn't remember her. "I haven't seen your sister since then, though," Annie told me. That she did seem a little upset about. Or maybe not upset, but concerned. "You guys moved into the victor's village and she didn't go back to school."

I nodded. "You don't really need to go to school after your brother wins the Hunger Games," I said with a grin. "It's not like she needs to learn a trade to make money now." And I wanted to keep her somewhere safe, and I thought the new home for them in the victor's village would be it.

"Makes sense…" She was watching me, gaging me for a reaction as she spoke. "I haven't really seen her around town either, though. How is she?"

I didn't know how to answer this. The truth was, the Capitol kept what was left of my family under close watch. Something like house arrest. They were the leverage that President Snow used over me. This was another reason why I was never left much time to travel back to District 4. The less contact and assurance I had that my family was okay, the easier it was to keep my in check.

"She's fine." Did I want to tell Annie about this? "The Capitol… Home schools her," I said. "They like to keep an eye on them, make sure they're okay. They're my family, so… They get special attention." It didn't seem like it mattered, at this point. But it also didn't seem important enough to tell her about. Why let her in on those secrets when she was so close to going into the arena and probably never coming back?

Annie didn't look like she believed me. She was smarter than I gave her credit for and convinced that maybe she somehow knew…

"I was sorry to hear about your father," she said after a moment. Her tone was quieter now.

I froze. The official story was that my father died of a heart attack. The actual story was something entirely different. There was more to this girl – that knew my sister, knew my entire family, who I didn't even recognize and was now one of my tributes – than there appeared.

I didn't want to talk about my dad. I didn't want to talk about my sister. I didn't want to talk about my mom. And I definitely didn't want to talk about the iron grip the Capitol had on them and my entire life.

I cleared my throat. "Yes, well, he was a good guy," was all I told her. By the way she kept watching me expectantly, this wasn't the answer she had been looking for, but she didn't press me for more.

Suddenly, I felt exhausted and just wanted to go to sleep. "You should go to bed soon," I told her, screwing the top back onto my bottle of water. "You're going to need all the sleep you can get."

Annie nodded. "I will, I'm just going to finish this tea." She raised her cup. "The attendant who was in my room said it would help me fall asleep."

"That's only if you actually drink it," I told her with a laugh since her cup looked like she hadn't taken a single sip yet. "Want a sugar cube?" I stood up, set my bottle on the coffee table a picked up a sugar cube from the small glass bowl. "It'll make it taste better," I said. I stepped over and held it out to her in the palm of my hand.

Immediately, she tensed up and pressed her back into the cushions of the couch. She gave me that look again. Her green eyes wide, her hands clutching the cup. I couldn't place the familiarity of it earlier, but this time, the sudden recognition slammed into me like a wall of water. I had seen that look before. More than half a dozen times. In the arena, from the girls and boys who I had trapped in my nets. When I was standing over them, trident in hand, those moments before I sunk my weapon into them and the canon blast would sound. That look haunted me in the middle of the night.

Annie Cresta was afraid of me.


End file.
